


'Tis A Gift To Be Simple

by cookiegirl



Category: Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Pre-Relationship, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/pseuds/cookiegirl
Summary: Emmett realizes Elle has nowhere to go during her first Thanksgiving at Harvard, and rectifies the matter.
Relationships: Emmett Forrest & Elle Woods, Emmett Forrest/Elle Woods
Comments: 29
Kudos: 203
Collections: Yuletide 2019, legally blonde





	'Tis A Gift To Be Simple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metonymy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metonymy/gifts).

“Define ‘seriatim’,” Emmett said, propping his feet up on Elle’s desk. They were two hours into a study session on the second day of Thanksgiving break, and he was impressed with how much progress they were making - probably because the dorms were like a ghost town and there was no thumping music from the room next door to distract them. It seemed that almost everyone but Elle had left for vacation.

“Seriatim,” Elle said from her position cross-legged on the bed, where she was painting her fingernails. “Seriatim.” She sighed and wrinkled her nose in concentration. “Seriatim means…”

“One after…” Emmett prompted.

“Oh! One after another!” Elle said. “Like in a series.”

“Right,” Emmett said. “So to ‘consider seriatim’ means…”

“It’s when a judge considers a motion paragraph by paragraph. The judge reviews each section individually, but then at the end they make a single ruling on the motion as a whole. Case in point: me and Beyonce’s _Dangerously In Love_ album.”

“Yeah, that’s - wait, what?”

Elle blew on her nails and recapped her polish. “See, there are fifteen tracks on that album. And I listen to them one at a time. Some of them are amazing, like _Crazy In Love_. And some of them _aren’t_ amazing, like _Gifts from Virgo_. But when I consider the album as a whole, I still rule that it’s a brilliant album.” Elle cocked her head to the side, thinking. “Maybe even the best album since Madonna’s _Ray of Light_.”

Emmett blinked. “I...will have to take your word for that,” he said.

“I can put it on right now so you can listen?” Elle offered.

“No, no, that’s okay. I kinda like it around here without all the noise.”

Elle nodded. “I think I’m the only one left on this floor.” She smiled at Emmett, but he couldn’t help but notice that the smile faded quicker than usual, and she glanced away, back down at her now-finished nails.

Emmett was tempted to carry on quizzing her on legal terms, but for some reason he could never ignore it when Elle looked the slightest bit sad. He cast around for something helpful to say. 

“What did your parents say when you told them you were staying here over the break?” he asked after a moment.

Elle shrugged. “They didn’t really understand. They make a big deal of Thanksgiving. My mom gets it catered by one of Malibu's top chefs and goes all out with decorations." Her voice became wistful. "But it's not all glitz and glamour. My Grandma Darcy always brings her special strawberry cake for dessert.” 

“Huh,” said Emmett. “I’ve never heard of anyone having strawberry cake on Thanksgiving before.”

“A celebration isn’t complete without a pink dessert, Emmett.” Elle pointed her finger at him sternly. “Grandma taught me that and I count it as very important life advice.”

“I will bear that in mind for the future.”

“Good. Anyway, it’s fine. I know it’ll be worth staying in my dorm room with a turkey sandwich for Thanksgiving when I pass at the top of the class!”

Emmett frowned. Somehow, while encouraging Elle not to go home for the week, it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t have anywhere to go on Thanksgiving. His focus had been entirely on studying, but the thought of her sitting alone with a turkey sandwich - that was definitely not acceptable.

“You should at least take a few hours’ break for a meal,” he started, but Elle’s eyebrows shot up and she laughed.

“I clearly remember some wise man telling me I had to study non-stop this week, otherwise I was going to be _mediocre_,” she teased.

“That’s not exactly what I said,” Emmett said, though in retrospect he feared it probably was. “Look, why don’t you have Thanksgiving dinner with me? I’m going to my mom’s, so it won’t be fancy, but…”

A proper smile lit up Elle’s face and Emmett couldn’t help grinning back.

“Really?” she said.

“Sure.”

“What about Bruiser? Can he come? It’s okay if he can't. I can leave him in front of the TV, he loves to watch the parade.”

Emmett snorted. “He can come, I’m sure. He can watch the parade while we’re there.”

Elle’s smile grew wider. “Hear that, Bruiser?” she said, bending down to talk to the chihuahua curled up at her feet. “You’re gonna get to watch the floats with Uncle Emmett!”

Emmett stifled another laugh, wondering at what point in the last month he’d become Uncle Emmett to the dog. There were worse things to be, he guessed. He picked the law textbook back up from the desk to carry on quizzing Elle, but she spoke before he could.

“Wait!” she said. “What should I wear?”

Emmett looked up at her, confused.

“To Thanksgiving at your mom’s! What should I wear?”

“Oh. Err. Anything,” Emmett said. _Did people normally dress up for Thanksgiving?_

Elle gave him a dubious look, and Emmett grinned. “Well. Maybe not the bunny costume,” he said.

Elle threw a cushion at him.

\---- 

Emmett shifted the brown bag of groceries into one hand and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself as the November wind cut through the thin fabric. Somehow it seemed colder out here in Roxbury than it had on campus. Or maybe the increasing chill was because he was starting to freak out just a little.

He didn’t regret asking Elle to Thanksgiving, but it was only after he’d left her room in the early hours of the evening that he had fully realized what it meant. His mom’s current place was an improvement on the home he’d grown up in, but it was a million miles away from a mansion in Malibu. And their Thanksgiving would be the exact opposite to what Elle was used to. It sounded like her home was decorated to within an inch of its life, and the food was gourmet. Meanwhile, his mom was likely to put up the hand turkey picture Emmett had made in second grade in the window, and cook the smallest store-brand turkey she could find. He loved that old drawing and his mom’s cooking, but it would be a hell of a culture shock for Elle. He chewed on his lip. Maybe this had all been a terrible idea. Maybe he should have told Elle they could eat in her dorm together, or at his apartment near campus. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut altogether.

He shook his head and shifted the groceries again as he reached his mom’s front door, then let himself in with his spare key.

“Roy?” His mom poked her head around the kitchen door into the hallway, obviously expecting to see her boyfriend, and her face lit up when she saw Emmett standing there instead. “Hi, sweetie! I wasn’t expecting you tonight!”

Emmett went over to kiss her cheek. “Can’t I surprise my mom every now and again?”

His mother stepped back and narrowed her eyes jokingly. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!” Emmett insisted, but his mother put her hands on her hips and he folded instantly. “I was wondering if I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving?”

The surprise on his mom’s face was obvious, but she did her best to cover it. “Oh! Of course, of course. I can stretch the turkey to feed four.”

“You’re sure? I can bring extra -”

“No, hon. It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re bringing someone. It’s a long time since I’ve met any of your friends.”

Emmett shifted awkwardly. He knew it wasn’t meant to be a condemnation on the way he’d sectioned his life off, but it was hard not to feel a pang of guilt. “Um. Is it okay if she brings her dog too? Bruiser’s only small.”

“Sure! You know I love dogs.” His mom turned to go back into the kitchen, then turned back. “She?”

“Err, yeah. Her name’s Elle. I suggested she stay at Harvard over Thanksgiving to study instead of going home, so I feel sort of responsible for her now.”

His mom was looking at him closely. “Elle’s a nice name,” she said slowly, and he could see where her thought process was going.

“We’re just friends, mom.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, but she was smiling as if she knew something he didn’t.

“We are!”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying, if a girl stays in town for you -”

“She didn’t stay for me. She stayed to study. I’m just helping her.”

His mom nodded. “Well then, she’s a lucky girl.” She pointed at the brown bag Emmett had set down on the floor. “Are those groceries for me?”

“Oh. No. I had a second favor to ask you, actually.”

His mom raised her eyebrows. “Go on, then.”

Emmett shifted on his feet again. “Can I use your kitchen supplies to make a strawberry cake?”

His mom blinked. “You bake now?”

Emmett shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

\----

Emmett stared at the mess of bowls, eggshells and flour littering his mom's kitchen counter, and then at the recipe he’d printed off the internet at the university library. It clearly said: _Prep time - 30 minutes._ He was starting to take it as a personal insult that he had been working in the kitchen for two hours and still did not have a viable cake. 

The first cake had come out of the oven flat as a pancake and with a solid, rubbery texture that would have made it a great frisbee, if Emmett were inclined toward sporting activities. His mom had walked in, taken one look at the cooling cake and asked him if he’d forgotten to add the baking powder. He was sure he hadn’t, but the frisbee-cake professed otherwise.

The second cake rose, but was, inexplicably, a strange orange color instead of pink. Emmett didn’t know whether that was down to not using enough strawberries, using too much butter, or just the universe conspiring against him, but he did know that he couldn’t present Elle with an orange cake. Running low on ingredients, he had headed back out to Save A Lot, restocked on eggs and bought some pink food coloring at his mom’s suggestion. The third cake that was now baking in the oven may not turn out to be edible, but at least this one was certain to be pink. Possibly a quite terrifying shade of fuschia. 

“You need a hand clearing up?” his mom asked, sticking her head into the room.

Emmett dragged his hand through his hair, realizing too late that his fingers were sticky with icing sugar and strawberry syrup. “No, I got it,” he said, starting to pile up the bowls and take them to the sink.

“This girl really likes cake, huh?” his mom said.

Emmett shrugged. “She’s missing her parents, and her grandma, and her sorority sisters. I thought it would be nice for her to have a piece of home here.” He grimaced. “She might disagree after tasting it.”

The timer on the oven pinged, and Emmett put on an oven mitt and opened the door. He stopped still, half bent over, and looked at the cake in shock.

“What’s wrong with it this time?” his mom said.

Emmett reached in and pulled out the baking tin, then turned it around, studying the cake from all sides. “Nothing. It actually looks like… a cake.”

His mom came to stand next to him. “Wow. It really does.” She smiled at Emmett, then reached up to wipe some flour from his cheek. “You’ve got syrup in your hair, sweetie.”

“Yeah, thanks Mom.”

\----

Emmett was uncomfortably aware of the way the neighborhoods were growing more run-down as the bus got nearer and nearer to his mom’s place. Elle, however, didn’t seem to be noticing the increasingly grimy streets beyond the bus window. She was busy regaling Emmett with tales of her Thanksgivings at UCLA with the Delta Nu girls, while balancing Bruiser and a large box from Flour Bakery on her lap. Emmett had never eaten anything from there, but Elle swore she’d been told they did the best pumpkin pie in the city, and she just had to bring some for Emmett’s mom.

“This is our stop,” Emmett said, rising to his feet as the bus pulled up just down the block from his mom’s house. Elle barely stopped talking as they got off the bus and started down the sidewalk, Bruiser trotting along beside them. Seeing Elle here was strange - she looked utterly incongruous, pink and shiny in a sea of brown and grey. But she didn’t seem phased as she followed Emmett up the cracked concrete path to his mom’s ground-floor apartment.

Emmett paused outside the door. “Remember what I told you? It’s just gonna be a small thing. And my mom’s boyfriend is...well, he’s a big upgrade from the ones she had while I was growing up, but he’s still…”

Elle smiled up at him and nudged her shoulder gently into his. “I’m sure it’s gonna be great.”

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Elle shifted the pie box under one arm and offered him her right hand. He took it and they fell easily into the series of squeezes and movements that made up the secret handshake Elle had insisted they create for luck one time during an all-nighter. He’d mostly agreed because he’d been high on Red Bull at the time, but he couldn’t deny it made him feel lucky whenever they did it now.

“Let’s do this!” Elle said, and Emmett shrugged and unlocked the door. He took the pie box and ushered Elle in in front of him, trying not to imagine what the entrance hall of Elle’s home looked like on Thanksgiving. He guessed there would be garlands, a giant trimmed Christmas tree, maybe a turkey made of diamonds… He shook the ridiculous image out of his head and closed the door behind them. 

“Emmett?” His mom came into the hall to greet them, an apron covering her clothes and her face pink from cooking. He saw her blink as she took in Elle, and Emmett wasn’t sure whether it was down to surprise at how beautiful she was or at how many pink sequins she was wearing on her top half. Still, his mom gave her a wide smile. “And you must be Elle!”

“Hi, Mrs. Forrest!” Elle said, almost bouncing on her feet. “Thank you so much for the invitation!” Then she bounded forward and threw her arms around Emmett’s mom. He barely had time to cover his grin with his hand at the shocked expression on his mother’s face before Elle had stepped back again. The Forrests were not a family who hugged strangers.

His mom recovered quickly. “Call me Linda, sweetheart, and you’re very welcome. And this is Bruiser, I assume?” She bent down to stroke the dog. “Come in and have a drink, both of you.”

“Thank you, Linda!” Elle said, taking her arm and following her into the kitchen, pausing to turn her head back to Emmett with a knowing smile that said _See, I told you it would be fine._ Emmett entered after them, handing the pie box to his mom.

“Oh Emmett, I told you not to bring anything else,” his mom said.

“It’s from Elle,” he clarified.

His mom opened the lid and took in the golden pastry crust and the smooth, dark orange filling lightly dusted with sugar. 

“This is perfect, thank you Elle,” she said. She turned to place it on the table and Elle gave Emmett an excited thumbs up behind his mom’s back. 

“Where’s Roy?” Emmett asked, pouring a drink for himself and Elle.

His mom rolled her eyes. “In front of the TV, obviously, working on his third beer. You two can go join him, if you like.”

“Do you need help with the food, Linda?” Elle asked.

“No, no, everything’s nearly ready. You two could set the table, though. Emmett knows where everything is.”

Elle looked questioningly at Emmett and he guided her toward the door to the small space that served as both sitting room and dining room for the apartment. As they stepped through, the large man sitting in the ratty armchair opposite the television set looked over at them.

“Hey, baby Forrest,” he said, raising his beer can in Emmett’s direction.

“Roy,” Emmett nodded back. “Happy Thanksgiving. Elle, this is Roy. Roy, this is Elle Woods.”

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Elle said, giving Roy a small wave.

Roy sat up a little straighter as he noticed Elle. “How did you two crazy kids meet, then?” he asked, muting the television.

“I’m a law student at Harvard,” Elle said.

Roy laughed, taking another swig of beer. “Sure you are.”

Emmett bristled, but before he could speak, Elle was flipping her hair and dazzling Roy with one of her patented smiles. “I am. A very _serious_ one,” she said.

“Yeah,” Emmett put in. “She’s gonna be top of her class soon.” It was… Well, it wasn’t completely impossible.

Roy shrugged, still grinning. “Okay. Good for you, doll. And what about you, Em? You still a teaching assistant? No proper job yet?”

Emmett felt Elle tense up beside him, but he nudged her gently to let her know it was fine. Roy was harmless compared to a lot of the men his mother had dated, and ninety percent of what he said was meant as a joke, even if it stung. 

“Still assisting,” Emmett confirmed mildly, heading over to the dresser where the plates and table mats were kept.

Elle didn’t follow him, though. He glanced back and saw her still smiling sweetly at Roy. “Emmett’s doing great. He’s Professor Callahan’s right hand man. He’ll have his name on the door of Callahan’s firm soon.” She looked the picture of innocence, but there was a steel underneath the lilt of her tone that Emmett couldn’t imagine anyone trying to argue with. For the first time he could really imagine her making an argument in court.

Roy raised his eyebrows, looking mildly impressed. “Callahan and Forrest, huh? Sounds good.” He toasted Emmett again with his beer. “You two watching the game?”

“We’re setting the table,” Emmett said, and Elle came up next to him. He started passing plates to her, noticing for the first time that they were faded and a couple were chipped, but Elle didn’t blink. She laid the plates out and then took the paper napkins from Emmett. He concentrated on setting out the cutlery, and when he next looked up, he saw Elle was utterly absorbed in doing...something...to the napkin she was holding. Her tongue was poking out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated.

“Elle?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Elle. What are you doing with that? It’s just a napkin. You put it next to the plate.”

She looked up at him and smiled, then opened her hand out, palm up, to him. Sitting on top of it was an origami swan.

“Nothing is _just_ anything, Emmett,” she said, then placed the swan carefully in the middle of one of the plates, before moving on to the next napkin. 

\----

An hour and a half later, Emmett was full of roast turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and was feeling far more relaxed than he’d expected. Dinner had been an unmitigated success, and Elle and his mom had discovered a mutual passion for _Days Of Our Lives_ which had kept them talking animatedly. Even Roy had managed to behave himself despite putting away another two beers, and Bruiser had discovered to his great excitement that if he sat by Roy’s feet, he would be fed tidbits of turkey. 

“Help me bring the dessert through, Emmett?” his mom asked, and Emmett followed her into the kitchen, grabbing the plate with the strawberry cake while she took the pumpkin pie. They set them down on the table, and Elle gasped.

“Is that -?” Elle started, looking at the dessert with wide eyes. “Emmett?”

“It’s strawberry cake. Not quite the same as your Grandma’s, I’m sure, but…” Emmett shrugged.

“Where did you find it?” she asked, gazing at the pink buttercream frosting that he’d spent far too long applying. It had been consistently uneven, so he’d kept adding more, trying to even it out, and he feared it was probably now two inches thick. 

“I, uh, made it.”

Elle turned those wide eyes on him. “You baked a cake for me?”

Emmett felt his cheeks grow warm. “Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it.” He cut a slice for her and for himself, while his mom and Roy took slices of pie.

Elle put a forkful of cake in her mouth - a forkful that looked like it was made up mostly of frosting. 

“There might be too much -” Emmett started.

“I love it,” Elle declared. “It’s perfect.”

\----

“I’m so glad I came today,” Elle said as she stood next to Emmett in the kitchen after dinner, washing the dishes before he dried them. Roy and Linda were curled up on the couch watching a movie, and Bruiser had joined them, having made Roy his new best friend.

Emmett glanced down at her. “You are?”

“Yes. And not just because I was getting cabin fever in my dorm room.” She smiled. “Your mom’s the sweetest.”

“She seems to like you too.”

“Of course she does,” Elle said, sticking her tongue out at him. Then she paused. “What you said to Roy earlier...you really think I could become top of the class?”

Emmett hadn’t been expecting that question. He thought about it for a moment as he dried a wine glass. “I think,” he said, “that when Elle Woods puts her mind to something, anything’s possible.”

Elle grinned.

“You really think I’ll get my name on the door?” Emmett checked.

Elle handed him the final washed plate. “I am totally, completely, astoundingly certain.”

Emmett laughed. “That’s pretty certain.” He dried the last plate and put it away. “Come on, let’s join Bruiser for the rest of the movie.”

\----

It was late by the time Emmett had finished walking Elle back to her apartment. She paused by the door, and turned to Emmett.

“Hey, we never said what we were thankful for,” she said. “At dinner.”

“Oh...no, I guess not,” Emmett admitted. “We’ve never gone in much for that tradition.”

“Well, Emmett Forrest, what are you thankful for?”

“My health, I guess. Opportunities. Harvard. My brain, and -”

Elle giggled. “Oh, your huge brain, huh?”

“Yeah. And having someone to tell me when I’m being big-headed.”

Elle did a purposefully dramatic hair flip. “You’re welcome.”

“So what about you?” Emmett asked. “What are you thankful for?”

Elle was quiet for a moment. Then: “New friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She put her hand on the doorknob as if to go into her room, then paused. “Oh, and strawberry cake.”

Emmett blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “Right.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Emmett.” She rose up onto her toes and kissed his cheek gently.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Elle.”

He waited until she was safely inside before he set off back to his apartment, feeling the stickiness of her lip gloss still on his cheek. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he thought it had been his best Thanksgiving yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! :)
> 
> Thanks to htbthomas for the beta.


End file.
